This digest revels in the in-between, the transitional, the presence of absence. My camera with its dials and knobs and sharp focus has taken me into the blur of things. It has taught me that because things can't be measured it doesn't mean that it isn't there. The spirit of things, the essence of our places is as real as my shutter button.
I can smell the space before I can see it. It is dark and dank, and it takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior which reveals itself intermittently in swags of sunlight dropping in from behind the clouds.
If I were a Banksy or an Emin, and presented the world with an object that had been shaped by the collated, nuanced press of several thousand people over five hundred years, I’d think I was onto something.
I tell myself that it will pass, but whilst it’s here, I decide to turn my troubles into alms and take advantage of my super-senses.
I am a totem to them. Without me they feel rudderless. They have imprinted me with their hopes and fears, their gains and losses, their happiness and sorrow.
Welcome For those that are new here: thanks for coming along.. I'm an architectural photographer. I travel around Britain recording and interacting with special places that have a spirit about them. I work from my camper van called Woody and I share my experiences via this digest. ⚡️ Missed...
For a moment, I disappear: Andy Marshall the frustrated and entitled photographer, the writer, the anxiety ridden camper-van-camino chap - completely disappears.
"I find it hard to think how anything like this can survive the perils of our times."
I plumped for Birdoswald and missed the opportunity of ever seeing one of the most photographed trees in the country. On 28 September the tree was unlawfully cut down in the dark hours.
"Like a precious baubled ring, the carving becomes the clawed setting, the movement of light upon it the jewel."